


january 24, 1996

by cascountsdeansfreckles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Homophobic John Winchester, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, John’s journal, Pre-Canon, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:07:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cascountsdeansfreckles/pseuds/cascountsdeansfreckles
Summary: An entry from John’s journal:Dean turns seventeen today. We went shooting. Then I sent him out on his ﬁrst hunt. I've let him take the lead before, but I've always been there to back him up. This time he's on his own. Partly it's a test, and partly I wanted some time with Sammy. Should be no problem for Dean. Ghosts of two nuns haunting St. Stephen's Indian Mission in Riverton, Wyoming. Simple salt-and-burn mission. Nuns in love with each other,then discovered. Killed themselves. We scoped the situation out,ﬁgured that something must be left behind that's now a focus for the haunting. Bible, rosary beads, some small article that's hidden somewhere in their room.
Relationships: Lee Webb/Dean Winchester (mentioned)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	january 24, 1996

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning for homophobia, sort of religion based homophobia if you squint, passing mention of john hitting dean.

Dean knows how to flick a lighter on his first try, he’s been doing it since he could hold one without burning his fingers, but his shaking hands betray him now. The flame won’t catch. His thumb slips ineffectively over the sparkwheel.

“Damn it,” he whispers to himself, glancing around the empty graveyard. The longer he stands in the frigid cold, the more useless his fingers become. “ _ Damn it _ .”

The graves of the nuns sit in front of him, resting right next to each other. Neither of them has a heartfelt message inscribed on the headstone, only their names and the dates that their lives started and ended. Dean gets the flame to spark, but then he stands with his hand held over the bones, staring down at them. The case was a salt and burn, straightforward and simple. That doesn’t mean that it was easy for Dean. He knows why his dad didn’t come with him.

This isn’t a birthday gift. Even John isn’t emotionally stunted enough to think Dean would want to be hunting  _ alone _ on his seventeenth birthday. No, this isn’t a gift at all. This is a message, and Dean hears it loud and clear.

The bodies before him were two nuns who fell in love with each other. When they were discovered, they killed themselves together. John had told him the backstory without a single comment outside of the facts, but he’d held Dean in place with a meaningful look the whole time.

The chill in the air makes the flame go out. Dean tries again. This time, he drops it into the grave before anything can hold him back. The first body goes up in flames, the rosary and bible picking up the fire and burning as well. The heat rises to Dean’s face, but it doesn’t feel like a welcome break from the cold. It feels like a warning.

“Happy freakin’ birthday to me,” he whispers.

Dean drops roughly into a sitting position and stares at the fire. Not three months ago, John had walked into the motel without knocking and found himself staring at Lee Webb, sitting on Dean’s bed and looking guilty. Dean had launched himself toward the far wall, and that’s where John’s gaze landed on him, hair mussed and cheeks bright red. There is no way he had not pieced the situation together. They never spoke about it, they pretended that John was pissed because the boys had dug into his whiskey.

Dean had hoped that would be the end of it. He certainly had never considered that his dad would punish him in this way. He expected something direct, a mix of harsh words and the sting of a backhand. This is worse. This isn’t drunken, misdirected anger. It’s calculated.

_ Wrong. Dangerous. Unnatural. Bad. Disgusting. _

Dean’s stomach twists and he looks away from the flame. He pulls out a matchbox for the second grave and lights a few of them before dropping them one by one. The second nun goes up in a flare, immediately matching the blaze of her lost love. Dean sits, with his knees pulled close to his chest, and waits for the flames to die. His watch tells him that his birthday is officially over. Sam texts him a few times, just checking in. He doesn’t hear from John.

When he walks back into the motel room where his dad and brother wait for him, body stiff and aching from digging up two graves by himself, Sam is fast asleep, snoring lightly into his pillow. John is sitting up in his bed, eyes on the television.

“Is it finished?” he asks, voice neutral. That would be a weird way to ask if Dean wrapped up the hunt, but they both know that is not what he is asking. Whether his body is shaking from exhaustion or something else, Dean doesn’t know.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

“I’m gonna shower,” Dean says, his throat tightening as he speed walks through the room, eyes downcast and face burning. John doesn’t say a word. 


End file.
